Confessions of an Android Drama King
by AnimeGoddessS
Summary: (WA3) Amg. I updated. Again. It's a miracle! “To heal a wound, you must first bleed it of its poison. With this, you will be cleansed.” Ch.3 is longer than the other ones! Please R&R!
1. Perplexity

_Confessions of an Android Drama King_

A/N: Mmmkay. Sooo, this is one of the FIRST fan fictions I had ever written! I thought it would be fun to share it soooo…I am! Ah sniff It brings me back to the days when I had just finished the game…Good times…Good times. I don't know what my thought process was while I was writing this . " But it makes me and the Betsy happy, so I hope it satisfies ya'll as well. Enjoy the mediocre writings of my first fan fic!

Disclaimer: NO! I DO NOT OWN WILD ARMs 3!!!! It is sad I know, I asked to borrow it, but they refused…. They were somehow convinced I would never give it back…Go figure. shrugs

33333333333333333333

_Chapter 1: Perplexity_

Humming…

He heard humming.

It was soothing to his ears; he had never heard such a melody before.

He eased his dazed eyes open.

Where was he?

A cold metallic room surrounded him. The floor was a dark shade of tile; it had been worn with obvious long years of turmoil. The corners, in fact, were chipped and cracked in many places. There were no windows. There were no doors. He lay on that cold ground, staring only at the green tinted ceiling. He could only presume, that the moist air had made the surface of the wooden ceiling moldy.

The frigid stale air pierced his skin. He was shaking from the cold.

"Where am I?" he called out to no one in particular.

"Here…" he heard someone reply. "You are here."

The voice sounded as if it were a girl.

'She must've been the one humming…' he concluded. He wearily rose off of the ground and onto shaking legs. He shook his head slightly, rubbing his own clammy brow with a pale hand.

"Come here…" he heard the girl command.

Before he even registered her presence, or even his own thoughts, he was stumbling over to the side of the girl.

He gazed at her, taking note of her pale features. She appeared to be in her teens, yet was petite for her age- whatever age that happened to be. Black hair framed her long face, and her cheeks were still littered with baby fat. Her eyes, crimson red, seemed so innocent staring back at him as he observed her.

"How are you feeling?" she asked him sweetly, reaching up to brush strands of hair out of his face. He shrugged, indifferent to the question. The young girl smiled as if suppressing a snicker,

"You are feeling fine." She informed him.

And suddenly, he did.

"Can you tell me your name?" she asked again in the same voice, dripping with syrupy trust. She caressed the length of his cheek curiously. He pondered the answer to her question only for moments, before shrugging in defeat.

"They named you Adam Kadmon…" she whispered into his ear, standing on tiptoe, clutching his shoulder for balance. They were nearly the same height. "So that is precisely what I shall call you."

Adam nodded, and the girl smirked, pulling away from his shoulders.

"Do you remember what happened, Adam?"

Adam shook his head again, having no recollection of anything at all. "Should I?" he responded blandly.

"No…" she sang to him "So I will tell you!"

She laughed shrilly, like a child might.

"You're friends abandoned you…" she cooed sweetly to him. Adam's lilac eyes grew wide, as if shocked to know he had ever had a life previous these past minutes.

"Don't you remember? They discovered what you are, and became afraid."

She watched Adam process her words, insane glee ever so present in those haunting scarlet eyes. He shook his head in refusal, and she only nodded her head in return.

"Oh yes, I am afraid what I tell you is true. They are desperately ashamed to ever have known you, to have ever even recognized you as a comrade."

She twirled Adam's soft white hair in her long skeletal fingers, before again placing a hand on his shoulder and coaxing the duo to the ground.

"I will protect you" she whispered, "There is no need to cry."

Adam touched gingerly at the tears forming a graceful outline of his cheeks. He was surprised and confused at their presence there. He did not understand why he would perform such a juvenile and childish action.

"I must be something horrible if my friends deserted me." He stated simply, fixing his unchanging gaze to the foul tiled floor.

The youthful girl scoffed slowly, her voice inhabiting a deep more threatening tone.

"Oh, you are." She enlightened him rubbing a tear roughly from his cheek. "You're not real, you're merely a puppet."

Adam turned his stare from the floor and fixated on her. There was only distress in his eyes.

"Do not worry!" she smiled flicking impishly at his nose with an index finger. "You possess a great power, puppet. And you're going to lend it to me, aren't you?"

Adam nodded stiffly, trying not to persuade more un-summoned tears to descend down his otherwise emotionless cheeks. He returned his gaze again to the floor, hiding his eyes through a veil of white hair. He looked away from her, ashamed.

The girl clicked her tongue in sadness and contempt, stroking his frail spine with the palm of her hand.

"How pathetic," she cooed, "You still feel emotions towards those people?"

Adam spoke not a word in reply; he just continued his shameful stare at the ground.

"Well," began the girl comfortingly "After you help me, I promise I will make your pain go away…"

Adam peeked at her through fair colored cowlicks of hair.

"Forever." She assured him immediately "It shall leave you forever, I promise."

Adam hid again behind the safety of his hair, staring unwaveringly at the worn, filthy tiles- hiding in the safety of his own shell.

"It is okay…" Beatrice finally whispered to him, "I am not real either."

She continued humming.

33333333333333333333

Chapter Notes: Sorry if it is a little short, but that is just the way this section is: short simple and to the point! It was really difficult to refrain from using Beatrice's name, but I figured (that even though you probably already discovered who it was) that I wanted to keep that sense of…(dramatic irony?)…(Suspense?)…(All of the above?). I apologize for taking so long to get this particular fiction typed up and prepped (to the best of my abilities anyways). As far as the title "Confessions of a Android Drama King" goes, it really started off as a joke between Betsy, and myself and it just stuck after a while. Y'know how it flows, right?

A/N: Ahhhhhhhhhh yes. One of my first ever (written wise of course) fan fics is finally being posted! How fun! I would really appreciate reviews! They really brighten up my whole day! OH! And there are definitely more chapters coming, I just kind of have to, yano, find the plot and other essentials first. " R&R (Critiques, complaints? –here is where I wish I had my very own 1 800 number- Any such are appreciated!)


	2. Reality for Three, Questions for One

Confessions of an Android Drama King

Author's Notes: I'm aliiiiive! So after a long delay, I decided to finally cut my losses and just 'wing-it' with this story. So…(gulps) This is my first semi-serious story with consecutive chapters and everything, so forgive me for the rocky start. I'd appreciate any and ALL input. Good and bad! (smiles weakly) I guess I'll stop stalling and get on with it.

Disclaimer:

Sarah: Suzu, you wanna do the disclaimer?

Suzu: (petting his Sensei's skull) Who's a pretty sensei? Who is a pretty sensei?

Sarah: Er…nevermind…. What about you Nowe?

Nowe: Alright. Sarah nor Betsy or anybody from this AnimeGoddessS account (which is just Sarah and Betsy anyway) own Wild ARMs 3, or any other games and animes they post under.

Arnaud: Wow. You rock. (slicks back hair)

Nowe: I know. Nice hair.

Arnaud: I know.

33333333333333333333

Chapter 2: Reality for Three, Questions for One

_They say it's always easy. They say I'm always right…but I still feel like…I could have done something more…He was depending on me…They all were…I was their 'leader', I am supposed to have the answer…I'm supposed to know what to do. He should have trusted me…_

And suddenly his words were bleeding back into her head.

_'I've been havin' these weird dreams, lately…'_

He had trusted her. And she hadn't listened.

And now no one knew where he was.

Virginia was having trouble sleeping. It had been nearly a month since Jet had abandoned them. A month yesterday, exactly. She couldn't remember her last conversation with him, or if he had anything to eat the night before he left, she couldn't remember what he was wearing, or if he took anything with him. She could barely remember his face. Upon asking Clive and Gallows, both were shocked to find that Jet was not with her.

_"Ginny, the punk was with you the last we seen! How'd you manage to lose him?"_

_Virginia gazed at the two confused. Surely they were joking._

_"No…" she started unsurely. "I haven't seen Jet all day."_

_"But, Virginia, if I may impose…" protested Clive "You left with him not two hours ago."_

_"I think you have me confused-"_

_"Aw, he'll show back up 'Gin. Don't worry." And with that Gallows gave off a hearty laugh that seemed to make the air heavy. It smelled like rain._

But he never did. He never returned. He didn't leave a note, nor had he tried to contact them. He was just…gone.

It was morning, and the now trio, had taken residence at Claiborne's local inn. The walls were an almost blinding yellow in the morning sun, and Virginia opened her eyes only to squint them back shut again. She pulled the blanket over her head, curling her legs to her chest and yawning stubbornly, working up the effort to greet the morning. She felt the covers being yanked off of her.

"Rise and shiiiine!" yelled an over enthusiastic Gallows draping the blanket over his shoulders, stumbling further away from Virginia's hands as she reached desperately for the blanket. He danced clumsily in front of the bed, twirling in circles and twitching as his dreadlocks hit him in the face. Virginia laughed, and after she got herself properly clothed, she followed Gallows down to the diner for breakfast.

* * *

_Why would I want my memories back if all of them were painful?_

* * *

Virginia twisted her fork around, listening to Gallows and Clive converse amongst themselves. Actually, Clive was conversing, Gallows was chatting randomly.

"Where did they say this ruin was?"

"Somewhere awound here." Spat Gallows, his mouth full of food.

"And what precisely, pray tell, did you say the artifact is?"

With that Gallows shrugged to the scholarly Clive. "I just figgurd it'd be nice for all of us ta hit deh road again. Yano, dig up crap and be nosy."

Clive sighed, folding his napkin and setting it politely on the worn wooden table. "But I have no reason-"

"Aw c'mon Clive! It'll be fun! Ginny wants to! Right 'Gin?" He looked expectantly over to Virginia who had, at the mentioning of her name, smiled brightly and merely nodded. "See?" Gallows finished proudly. Clive sighed again, pushing his spectacles closer to his eyes by the bridge.

"I suppose if leader is up to it…" he surrendered.

"And why wouldn't I be up to it?" snapped Virginia.

The two were quiet.

"Hey Pike?"

Pike looked up from his task at hand, adjusting the pails he was carrying before setting them lightly on the ground beside the chicken coop. "Good morning Virginia!" he piped happily, turning around to see her familiar face. She smiled politely.

"Mind if we steal the horses for a bit?"

Pike shook his head, still grinning. He retrieved the buckets again, throwing the contents swiftly over the fence that caged the chickens in. He turned around, confused that Virginia had lingered after she had completed her request. "Yes?" he asked, blinking heavily.

She stared at him, fondling her thumbs. "Thanks." She spat, feeling her cheeks aflame and turned quickly on heel to leave.

He smiled again, returning to tend the chickens.

"I haven't seen him, if that's what you were wondering."

Virginia stopped.

"But you know, I pretty much trust him."

She didn't turn around, but rather glanced at Pike through the corner of her eye.

"I mean…" and with this Pike laughed slightly "He helped save the world."

The chickens clucked thankfully, and Virginia smiled the slightest degree. "Does he tell you everything?" she asked, a note of jealousy almost present in her tone. Pike chuckled again.

"You know what? He didn't used to."

Virginia cocked her head to the side, turning to face the green haired boy. He was staring plainly back at her, smiling. He was always smiling.

"He really didn't like to talk at all. But the more he was around you all…" Pike dropped the buckets, stretching his arms above his head, flexing his fingers and tickling the clean air. "The more he wanted to tell."

Virginia nodded, turning away again.

"I'll be sure to contact you if I see or hear anything."

"And I'll do the same." Virginia replied.

"Oh, and Virginia?"

She turned around again.

"Be careful, okay? It would be very pathetic if Jet came back to find he only had me left."

Virginia laughed, agreeing.

* * *

"You don' think the punk was captured by the Ark do you?"

Clive glanced at Gallows. "I-…" and he found that he couldn't finish.

For once, Clive was at a loss for words.

"Damn."

33333333333333333333

Chapter Notes: Meh, it's a short chapter. Lots of dialogue. Sorry, I'm still getting used to this whole 'wow-I've-got-to-do-more-chapters-that-relate-to-this' thing. Heh heh. I am still debating if I want this to evolve into some sort of love story…or yano. That kinda seems to be where it's leading at the moment, doesn't it? I promise next chapter will be longer…I guess this was really just an establishing chapter. I guess. I really don't know. I am using that as my excuse though.

A/N: Yeah…it'll get better I hope lol. Next one will be longer. Have faith, keep reading, leave reviews. Is it just me? Or has the Wild ARMs section slowed down, significantly? (weeps)


	3. Ambivalence

_Confessions of an Android Drama King_

Author's Notes: Hrm…I am going to try and make this chapter as long and interesting as I can manage (chuckles). I am trying, also, to try and reveal some of the main story line (which I am still trying to work on btw lol) so…Yano.…Since I have no idea what I am about to type, I really couldn't tell ya what's gonna happen. This chapter will be as much as a surprise to me as it is you. (snickers) Sorry! I may not be cut out for this! (cues inspirational music…you guessed it…'Eye of the Tiger') Ahhh, much better. I can do this thing! (strikes a Rocky pose) (starts crying) No I can't!

Disclaimer:

Sarah: Suzu, put the skull down…

Suzu: (cooing incoherently to the skull) Pretty sensei, niiiice sensei…

Sarah (shakes head) Yah, I don't own Wild ARMs 3. (picks up the disk and starts cooing to it) Pretty game, niiiiiice game.

Suzu: That's just freaky ya'll.

33333333333333333333

_Chapter 3: Ambivalence_

"Are you feeling well today, puppet?"

Adam opened his eyes. Beatrice was standing above him, smiling kindly as usual. He shrugged lamely, yawning. "Why d'you always call me that?" he asked, stretching his arms above his head, arching his back like a cat may. She giggled kneeling beside him.

"I have another job for you, puppet. Are you prepared?"

Adam shrugged. Glancing around the room. The floor he was perched upon was dark tile, chipped and worn at the edges from all the relics they were constantly dragging across the floor. There were no windows, and only one small door that seemed barely noticeable against the artifact covered walls. The ceiling was a bit green, tinted at the core from the constant moist temperature the room retained. It was moldy. Adam sighed again, flopping back on the floor. "Bring it on." He spat confidently "What is it this time, master? Another statue? More dragon bones?" Beatrice shook her head, sitting down beside him, fiddling with her black dress before sliding it under her knees.

"Just an interesting book." She admitted, looking down at him from the corner of her smoldering crimson eye. Adam sat up.

"That's it?" he asked, disappointment hinted in the edge of his voice. She clicked her tongue, running her hand over his apologetically.

"I am sorry puppet, but I assure you, this book is well worth the disappointment you feel now." She tucked her hair behind her ear.

"Is it now? What's so great about it?"

"It's a book of memories." She cooed. Adam scoffed.

"Doesn't sound so great to me, master."

Beatrice giggled sharply. "I believed you would say that."

Adam sighed, collapsing back onto the floor. "Where is it?" he asked blandly, his arms reaching for the ceiling, uncurling his fingers as if to reveal his palms to the heavens.

"It is in a ruin very near the town called Claiborne."

Adam sighed again, and she caught one of his hands in its descent back to him. "I know it is far…" she cooed, pursing her lips as he eased his eyelids over lilac orbs. "But it is necessary."

"To make the pain stop?"

"To heal a wound, you must first bleed it of its poison. With this, you will be cleansed."

Adam nodded, staring again at the ceiling. Beatrice squeezed his hand in hers.

"With this, Adam Kadmon, I will be able to…" she stopped as Adam leaned up, rising onto shaky knees that were not so accustomed to standing. Even standing tall beside the crouching Beatrice he appeared inferior. She clutched a fist into the side of his jeans. "I will be able to make the pain leave…"

The softness of her whisper almost made it seem that she was lying. "We will celebrate…" she said standing up beside him. She opened her arms to the room accepting all the relics and treasures with praise. "It shall be glorious." And she laughed.

Adam failed to see the humor. "Whatever." He sighed. She glared at him sideways, suddenly livid. She placed a fragile pale hand on his shoulder, nearly digging her nails into his flesh. He winced slightly.

"But you must be wary, puppet." She hissed, "You wouldn't want to end up hurting anyone again, would you?"

He shook his head.

_

* * *

_

The journey to the temple was shorter for Adam than he expected. Not very many creatures, and he had the pleasure of a nice view. Flowers were growing sporadically around the entryway of the ruin. It almost appeared to be an old sanctuary, or church, or library even. The entrance was caved in with stone, and the windows (though there were few) were boarded up. Fortunately, he was able to find a crawl space near the side. After some fancy maneuvering on his part, he was finally able to wiggle through. Inside was depressing. There weren't very many hallways, and it was very dark. He was cautious to light few candles as he proceeded, but there were not many traps. Virtually none, actually. Adam was slightly disappointed by this, but it did make his job much easier. He swiped the cobwebs away with a gloved hand.

'This is a small place…' He thought absent-mindedly to himself.

'I'm surprised it hasn't been looted yet.'

Finally he journeyed to the center of the temple, a large circular room with bookshelves around the walls. A pedestal was placed conspicuously in the center, with a small, ancient book perched on it. Adam smirked. _Too easy…_

He approached it with ease, skipping the stairs and merely hopping up to claim his prize. He picked it up gingerly. Adam glanced up suddenly, holding the decaying, decrepit book firmly in his hands, scanning the cover only slightly before he sensed another presence in the dungeon. He shifted his weight from one foot to another, eyeing the new Drifter that had just entered the room. The man gaped at him, opening and closing his mouth as if he wished dearly to speak something, but his voice forbade it. Adam merely shrugged it off, hastily shoving the book in his pack, taking care not to disturb its ancient pages. He glanced over his shoulder to the other Drifter once more. The man was very scholarly, possessing an almost intimidating air about him (proper posture, neat and tidy clothes). He had rather vibrant green hair that Adam suspected grew well past his broad shoulders, but was pulled back into an almost uncharacteristic spiky ponytail at the base of his neck. Behind thick glasses were bright blue eyes that formed into ovals of concern. The man stumbled forward slightly, the brim of his long red coat brushing the dusty stone floor.

"Jet?"

Adam stared at the man, his expression remaining unchanged as he shifted the bag protectively over his shoulder. "I think you have me confused." He spat blandly to the man, turning away, flicking his hand in a feeble wave of farewell.

* * *

"Jet!" Clive called again as the boy turned away. The younger drifter turned to catch his gaze again, rolling his lilac eyes annoyed as he patted the bag with a smirk. 

"You're not getting the book." He sneered, his voice near monotone "So don't try any bullshit with me."

Clive stared at him flabbergasted.

_He doesn't recognize me? Could I be possibly mistaken?_

It was true that the silver haired boy was clothed completely different than what he last remembered; His layers of vests and shirts were gone, replaced with what appeared to be some heavy form of bandage that wrapped around his stomach presumably all the way up his torso as well. Across his chest was almost folklore looking armor, inscriptions carved carefully around all the edges, fastened over his shoulders with thick belts that made an 'x' over his breast. Even Clive, who had mastered many of the ancient writing and was fluent in quite a few, did not recognize the origin of these strange markings. White scarves were wrapped around his neck and draped down past his mid-back. Across his shoulders hung a tattered brown saddlebag. His jeans were looser than before, almost covering his feet, Belts of ammunition were still hanging from his waist, as well as Clive's official conformation that this young Drifter was indeed Jet; The Airghet-lamh was holstered at his side.

The boy scoffed, turning away again and leaping off of the pedestal, his feet hitting the ground with a 'thump'.

"Jet…" Clive called again "You…you don't recognize me?"

The thief instantly spun around, his brow furrowed into an angry glare.

"My name is Adam Kadmon." He spat viciously "Why would you dare make the mistake of knowing me?"

Clive blinked, stupefied, but forced confidence into his step as he neared the boy. _It is Jet…He's got the Airghet-lamh…and he calls himself by the name the Council assigned him._

"Stop this nonsense!" ordered Clive, grabbing the younger Drifter by the arm "We have all been deeply concerned with your absence, Jet." Adam yanked away, seizing Clive by the forearm, gritting his teeth and slinging the man away from him. Clive's feet stumbled across the ancient concrete floor, making the dust dance in disapproval as the scraping of his shoes sang an almost haunting tune on the pavement when he slid to a halt. Clive gazed at him in awe, his hands instinctively reaching for his ARM , he stopped himself when he realized who he was defending against. But, before he had the chance to register any movement, Adam had swiftly taken hold of the Airghet-Lamh, and was aiming standing at an almost silhouette, directly at Clive. He could see the boy's finger twitching with anticipation at the trigger, as the rest of his body remained perfectly still, his chest did not even rise with the breath of air. He continued this stance, easing slowly away from the stunned Clive, until he finally lowered his guard and made an almost fearful sprint for an exit. He watched the boy stumble over his feet, glancing back at Clive for a split of an instant. He swore he saw confusion in the boy's vivid violet eyes. Clive dropped his rifle, and upon hearing it's clatter, collapsed to the floor as well. He removed his glasses, massaging his closed eyelids with his thumb and pointer finger.

"Jet." He finally managed to choke out "What happened to you?"

* * *

"He called me Jet." 

Adam stumbled across the cracked tiled floor, still clutching his ARM desperately in his hand. He stood before his master, and she merely cocked her head to address his presence. He kneeled on the floor for absence of chairs. It was cold even to his naturally cool skin. "He pretended to know me…" He whispered, as if such a thought were utterly taboo. Adam slid the book out of his bag, restoring the Airghet-Lamh back to its proper place at his side, handing the book into the palms of the girl. She accepted it, caressing her hand over the top of his in appreciation.

"Silly puppet." She laughed, hugging the book to her chest with an arm "That Drifter merely wanted this text, not you."

Adam nodded. "But…" He stuttered, "He called me Jet…I know that name!"

Beatrice scoffed, glaring at the boy disgusted, "What you know is not the name, but the yearning for it." She smiled softly; the corners of her lips smirking as she gripped the book, lowering herself into his lap and tracing his cheek with a brittle nail "That man was only trying to take advantage of you and your confusion." Adam sighed at her words, leaning away from her touch.

"Such things will only bring you pain, as you do to them." She whispered sternly, capturing his averted gaze in hers "And you long for a lack of it, correct?" Adam nodded in his defining answer, and Beatrice smiled. "That is what I thought my dear puppet." She ran her hands gleefully through his silver hair, twisting it between her frail pale fingers. "Why does this name bring my puppet such anxiety, I wonder?" She sighed, scratching his head and sniggering lightly. Adam shrugged. "Perhaps…" she started, as her voice became a low threatening whisper "Perhaps you should berid yourself of such burdens. The next time you are called by that name, I want you to do everything in your very _power _to stop them from ever doing it again." Adam pulled away from her hands, sliding her out of his lap in an almost childlike tantrum of a gesture.

"Why would I do that?" he snapped. Beatrice glared at him, her crimson eyes slitting to form an angry stare.

"Because I told you to." She barked snatching his arm, almost growling as she dug her nails into him, hexing unknowns under her smoky breath. He cringed, nearly shrieking in pain yanking away as the metallic liquid seeped in a steady torrent down his wrist. "You may be a puppet." She smirked "But you can still feel the pain I inflict upon you." She sneered "And here, you so dearly wanted to escape it."

Adam twitched at her, clutching his arm as the wounds began to burn, sealing themselves in a crescent of bright green light. He covered where the gashes would be with his own hands, turning his head quickly away as if he felt guilty to have such an ability. She smiled seeing the process, sneering wildly and embracing the boy forcefully into her arms. "Dear puppet…you're not real, and it is abilities such as that has caused you to be abandoned. It is because you are inhuman." He leaned awkwardly against her chest, afraid of her reaction if he did much more. She hummed an eerie tune, clutching the book desperately between them.

_Adam Kadmon truly does possess the power of the first angels…_

Beatrice smiled.

_33333333333333333333_

Chapter Notes: So…I hope I made that long enough. Next chapter it will be back to Ginny and the gang. Hoorah! Clive made an appearance in this chapter! Does Beatrice seem touchy feely to you? Well, there is a perfectly logical reason for that. Let's see, it's 'cuz she wasn't really tangible before. Like, she couldn't interact with things. But now she can, so whatever she can touch, you're sure as hell she's going to! Wow, that sounds really perverted…But I can't think of any other way to explain it. (sighs) Sorry! What else…I was going to make the scene in the ruins longer, with battles and fights and what-not, but I got kinda bored. Heh heh. (scratches the back of her ehad sheepishly) So you got the condensed fast-paced version! Maybe I'll experiment with it more next chapter… Ah well.

Author's Notes: Phew…I made it though another chapter! Read, review, have faith! Think happy thoughts! Live long and prosper! Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum and all that jazz!


End file.
